The Dark one Cries
by Dragon's Lost Child
Summary: What he would give not to be a Kaiba, bound by fate to be alone.' One Shot Thirteen year old Seto Kaiba sneaks away from his stepfather for a few hours, and contemplates what it really means to become a 'Kaiba'. Not a really happy fic. Please RR


A/N: This is a one-shot. There will be no continuation.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story except . . . you know . . . the story. I also wrote the poem that goes along with it.  
  
Claimer: The poem is mine. ^_^  
  
The Dark One Cries  
  
By: Winged Ringwraith of Ra  
  
Watching now, the Dark One cries  
Seeing all the other's lies  
Hearing them all sing of joys  
Of flowers, butterflies, and toys  
Of happiness not known  
  
Seto Kaiba stood in a park for the first time in over a year, for the first time since he'd left his home and been adopted by Gozaburo Kaiba. The business tycoon had been called away unexpectedly in the midst of their 'lessons' to a business meeting at KaibaCorp, and Seto had taken his chance for momentary freedom and ran for it.  
  
The day was a gorgeous one, and it seemed that no one in Domino City was able to pass up the opportunities a day like this could present. Picnic baskets covered a good portion of the soft green grass, which in turn were each covered by a tasty-looking assortment of foods. Laughing families chatted and teased each other as they ate, and happy couples simply lay together, enjoying the warmth the cloudless sky provided.  
  
Throughout the park balls were being tossed and kites were being flown, caught in a light breeze that blew the boy's brown hair lightly across his forehead. In the distance a spontaneous game of soccer had started up, and most teens Seto's age were racing across the park to join in on the fun.  
  
Sing now, all the liars do  
Of things that are false and none that are true  
Things that the dark one has never seen  
Life is cruel and hard and mean  
And nothing nice and kind  
  
Yet even standing in the midst of all these grinning, joking, and laughing people Seto felt a strange clench in his heart.  
  
For he could never be like these people. As much as he wished it he could he knew it would never happen. All hope for a life like this had disappeared the night his father had died.  
  
Since then his existence had simply become 'survival of the fittest'.  
  
These people did not understand the terrible pain of loss, the horrible emptiness that takes hold inside when everything and everyone you care about is wrenched from your grasp. Even Mokuba had been taken from him, really. He never saw his little brother except for at mealtimes, and even then it was under the watchful eye of Gozaburo Kaiba himself. Any show of affection or 'weakness' as his stepfather described it would only result in more punishment. More pain.  
  
Gozaburo was a master in the art of pain. He said that it was good for you.  
  
/Pain is only weakness leaving the body./ You could say that that was sort of his motto. . . one of many. Well, if he thought that that made the pain more bearable he was very wrong. As though he cared.  
  
Anger, hatred, pain and fear  
That is all he sees or hears  
Why do the songs lie like they do?  
Of things that warm his heart anew  
Things that he knows can never be true  
No one cares for me or you  
But in the songs somehow they do  
  
A mere three yards away four teens about his age sat in the grass, eyes down, intent on the game of Duel Monsters two of them seemed to be playing. More then anything else Seto wanted to be one of them, carelessly playing a game with some friends, for stakes no higher than who would buy the next round of lemon ices from the Ice-cream Man. In his life, the stakes were always much higher. It was either win or back to the orphanage.  
  
Sometimes he almost wanted to lose.  
  
He wished that he could go up to them, to see who was winning or ask if he could play a round. He would definitely win, he was sure . . . there he went again.  
  
Seto had always been somewhat competitive, some would say too competitive for his own good, but it had been Gozaburo who had drilled constantly into his mind the necessity to win at everything.  
  
/If you lose then you are weak. If you are weak then you are nothing./  
  
Speaking of Gozaburo, the eldest Kaiba could be returning from his meeting at any time. If he found that his eldest heir had abandoned his studies to wander aimlessly through a park he would be unhappy to say the least.  
  
Seto's short time of freedom had come to an end.  
  
As he was about to leave the teen cast one final glance at the dueling group of friends. There were three boys and a girl, all dressed in uniform that probably came from their school. Two were happily cheering on their friends as the players snapped playful insults at each other on their dueling skills.  
  
Unbidden, tears began to form in Seto's cobalt blue eyes as he saw the shortest of the four, a boy with strangely tri-colored hair and violet eyes, finish off his blonde companion in what seemed to be, by the loud cheer the girl gave, quite an impressive move. The blonde shook his head.  
  
"Whatever, I'll never get the hang of this."  
  
"No Joey, you did a really good job. Here, if you'd just done this . . ."  
  
What he would give to be one of them. What he would give to be able to stay in this park and enjoy this day.  
  
What he would give not to be a Kaiba, bound by fate to be alone.  
  
/Making 'friends' when you're this rich and powerful is the surest way to topple your empire. All anyone will want from you is your money or your influence./  
  
Family was beyond his reach.  
  
Friends were out of the question.  
  
Seto fought in vain to force back the quickly forming tears.  
  
He wishes desperately they could  
He hopes that somehow someone would  
But he has learned the truth, you see  
No one cares for you or me  
So watching now, the dark one cries  
  
No one in the park noticed the thirteen year old pale brunette boy, standing alone in the park, still and silent as a statue, as tears streamed down his face for the first time since his father died. Not one person could be troubled to look up from their own blissful lives to notice the teen standing there in distress, crying out silently for help.  
  
Maybe if he just screamed out the truth now someone would hear him. If he cried out his loneliness, his fear, and his abuse to all these happy people in the park, someone would have to care, right?  
  
/No one cares about anyone but themselves. Their own happiness will always come before your well being. If anyone tells you different then they're deluded or want money./  
  
It wouldn't do any good. What would these people be able to do for him anyway? Even if they did for some reason care all he would get was their pity. Pity would do him no good, and pity he could not stand.  
  
He was surrounded by people and yet he was completely isolated. He had escaped for a few short hours from the mansion, from Gozuburo, but really he was still completely trapped. Trapped by bonds tighter than chains.  
  
He was trapped by his pride, trapped by his fear, and trapped by his step- father's invisible hand. From that man's lies there was no real escape.  
  
Slowly, dejectedly, the boy wiped the last remaining tears from his eyes, and his face hardened.  
  
He truly was alone.  
  
So watching now, the dark one cries.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


End file.
